


Cottagecore

by Fixy



Series: It’s nice to have a friend [2]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Apparently this fic has zero words but I assure you it’s got 4K+, F/F, I have spies and they see all and send me screenshots of your tweets, I heard people wanted a part 2 to that Taylor Swift one shot..., Inspired by Taylor Swift, Mentions of Taylor Swift, Mentions of Taylor Swift merchandise that I want but can’t afford, Stream folklore you won’t regret it, dont get excited it’s not a threesome fic, for when the desperation is there and taking your clothes off is too much effort, good old fashioned dry humping, so here you go, tayllaneve, this is soft and sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25591624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fixy/pseuds/Fixy
Summary: And you know damn wellFor you, I would ruin myselfA million little times
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Series: It’s nice to have a friend [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854877
Comments: 65
Kudos: 298





	Cottagecore

**Author's Note:**

> Different writing vibe with this one to match the vibe of Folklore, whereas the first tayllaneve (coined it) fic had a more cheery Lover vibe. Yes you read that right, go listen to Folklore.

“Did you see?”

“Of course I saw, are you joking? I’ve only just stopped yelling, I hope the neighbours don’t call someone…”

“I cannot breathe.”

“Come over, Niko is away.”

“Right now? It’s after nine.”

“Yes right now, this is serious.”

“I’m on my way.”

——

Eve looks frenzied. 

“You look frenzied.” Eve tells her. Huh. Maybe they both feel it. 

“It’s in the air.” Villanelle says. “The frenzy. Your hair looks…”

“I know.” Eve says, gesturing her inside with a nod. “I’ve been running my hands through it non-stop for half an hour, there’s no saving it.”

“I like it.”

“There are more important things to think about than hair right now.” Eve closes the front door behind them and ushers Villanelle into the living room. 

She’s not been here since she tampered with the bills and toothbrush and CDs. She stares at the sugar pot, and wonders if Eve ever noticed. 

“Hey, did you ever notice-”

“That you broke in and messed with my shit? Yes, I’m not an idiot. The banana was disgusting and I got a fine over an unpaid parking ticket.”

Villanelle smiles proudly. 

“Oops.”

Eve shakes her head as she opens the fridge. 

“Wine?”

Villanelle nods and Eve gets to work pouring them glasses before leading them into the living room. 

“I can’t believe this.” Eve says when she hands the wine over. “Like, I seriously cannot believe this.”

“I think I am in shock.” Villanelle murmurs, lips pressed to the rim of her glass. 

“You’re quiet.” Eve agrees, sipping her wine. “It’s weird.”

“Yes,” Villanelle nods again, “I do not know how to form the words.”

Eve nods too, then catches sight of what Villanelle is wearing. 

“Nice shirt.”

“It felt appropriate.” Villanelle looks down at her t-shirt, plucking it away from her torso gently, the bright pink and red ‘calm down’ lettering upside down for her. “For Taylor.”

“For Taylor.” Eve clinks their glasses together. “Have you seen the new merch?”

“Already ordered the Betty’s Garden vinyl,” Villanelle starts to reel off, “the tie-dye sweater and the Betty’s Garden t-shirt.”

“God I’m jealous,” Eve groans, “I can afford the vinyl set and that’s it.”

“Good thing I bought you the In The Trees hoodie then.” Villanelle says with a smile curling her lips. 

Eve gapes. 

“You didn’t.”

“I did.” Villanelle shrugs. “Your government does not pay well. Consider this an investment.”

“In what?” Eve chuckles into her wine. 

“Your style.”

Eve swallows her mouthful and scoffs. 

“Ass.”

“So,” Villanelle says after a moment of quiet, “how are you?”

This is the first time in a while they have hung out outside of work. There was the Taylor concert that started it all, started these ‘dates/not-dates’, then the occasional coffee when it could be squeezed in. A picnic once, in a tucked away patch of Hyde Park, where they’d kissed again, the first time since the car after the concert. Soft and sweet like the first time, and simple. Then Lover was announced and they went to a bar to celebrate, that was fun. Eve had kissed her  _ again _ , drunk, both of them, messy and full of tipsy laughter. They went to  _ that _ show together, too, obviously, then for the past year met once a month or two. Sometimes they kissed. Sometimes they didn’t. 

It was very… simple. Villanelle wasn’t used to simple, but over the past… two or three years (Jesus, that long already?),  _ simple _ had become part of her. 

“Fine.” Eve says. “Same old.”

“Where’s Niko?”

Eve shifts uncomfortably, sips more wine. 

“We don’t have to-” Villanelle started, but Eve waves a hand at her. 

“No, it’s fine, he’s… staying elsewhere, at the moment.”

“Oh.” Villanelle says. 

“Yeah.”

They don’t say anything. Villanelle thinks Eve appreciates it, from the way her shoulders start to relax in the quiet. 

“Do you want to stay tonight?” Eve asks her eventually. “And listen when it’s out?”

“I packed pyjamas.”

Eve laughs, a little like finally breathing out.

“Of course you did.”

——

Staring at the ceiling, Villanelle contemplates life. 

It’s a big contemplation for a Thursday night, lying on Eve’s sofa, somewhere on the quiet side of London. Her fingers are still a little greasy from the samosas in their Indian takeout. 

She is thinking about Eve. 

As per, as always, and so on. 

“The theories that this album is about Karlie Kloss are already here.” Eve tells her from her spot on the rug, on her stomach with her laptop on the floor in front of her. “Like… based on the song names and the vague imagery, they’ve already decided.”

Villanelle chuckles. 

“People will make anything gay if they believe hard enough.”

“You don’t think it’s gay?” Eve asks. “I mean, the Kaylor stuff. The Lover album. Et cetera.”

Villanelle rolls her head to the side to stare at Eve. 

“Kaylor was a thing.” She says seriously. “I believe that with every atom of my being.”

“Oh thank god,” Eve turns back to her laptop, “I thought you thought it might be bullshit. I was ready to school you.”

“Eve, I am queer.” Villanelle stares at the side of Eve’s head, at her messy curls. “ _ Everything _ is gay to me. Because everything  _ is _ gay. People just don’t realise it.”

Eve laughs as she continues to scroll through the article. 

“What kind of gay do you think this album will be?” Eve asks. 

Villanelle thinks on it for a moment. 

“Cottagecore.”

Eve looks back at her, frowning in a sort of alarmed confusion. 

“What the hell is that?”

“A romanticised interpretation of western farm life.” Villanelle says. Eve doesn’t look any less confused, so she continues. “Gays that just want to live in a cottage surrounded by flowers, who want to spend their time picking apples and growing daisies for their wife.”

“Oh,” Eve rolls onto her back, head resting just to the side of the laptop, “that sounds cute.”

“Cute is the entire premise,” Villanelle turns until she’s resting on her side, propping herself up on her forearm to look down at Eve, “it’s an adorable life of self-sustainability. Root vegetables for everyone.”

“Huh,” Eve sounds thoughtful, “I like that. The photos she’s released and the stuff on the merch does look very… meadow-magical.”

“Exactly,” Villanelle nods, “and I imagine it’ll sound a bit like that too.”

“What kind of gay are you?” Eve looks from the ceiling to Villanelle, face open, no lines of worry or irritation. It’s nice. 

Villanelle purses her lips in thought. 

“I am whatever I want to be that day.”

“God, I envy you.” Eve chuckles, looking away from Villanelle. “I wish I could be whoever I want.” 

“What’s stopping you?”

Eve scoffs. 

“Society?”

“Ugh, society.” Villanelle grumbles. “Who cares about that?”

“Most of us have to,” Eve says, “we’re not all super rich and… technically dead, like you are. We have to abide by the rules and pay taxes and get a mortgage.”

“Run away with me.” Villanelle says, not for the first time. “You will never have to worry about those things again.”

“I can never tell if you’re being serious when you say that.” Eve smiles curiously. 

“Of course I’m serious.” Villanelle sits up and slides to the floor, her back against the sofa. “I would not joke about that.”

Eve stays in her prone position, eyes darting over Villanelle’s face. 

“It’s a nice idea, Villanelle, but it’ll never work.”

Villanelle sighs. She shrugs. She looks away. 

“Okay.” She says eventually. “But I  _ will _ keep asking, you know.”

Eve smiles. 

“I know.”

“Until you say yes.”

“I know.”

“Or until I die.”

Eve leans up on her elbows. 

“Don’t die.”

“Oh?” Villanelle smirks a little. “Everybody dies, Eve. I probably will sooner than others, considering my line of work and past employers.”

“No, you’re too good at it, you won’t.” Eve shakes her head. “Just… don’t die.”

Villanelle feels herself soften into the hardwood flooring. 

“Okay, I won’t die.” She promises, then tilts her head. “This got a bit morbid.”

“How many hours left until the release?” Eve asks, slumping back to lie on the floor. Villanelle checks her watch. 

“Five.”

“Jesus,” Eve rubs her face, then looks at Villanelle through her fingers. “Wanna watch the Reputation tour on Netflix?”

“Obviously.”

——

It’s still dark out when Villanelle opens her eyes. 

“Shit.” She grapples around for her phone, still resting on the arm of the sofa. 04:29. Still 31 minutes left to go. “Oh thank god.”

Villanelle lets her racing heart slow. It takes a moment for her to recognise her surroundings. 

She’s on the sofa, squished behind Eve’s body, somehow. She thinks her arm might have been holding the woman against her before she felt for her phone, and now it sort of just hovers. She sets a half an hour timer, just in case, then throws the phone down towards her feet and attempts to shift her body. 

“Eve,” she murmurs. No response. She holds Eve’s shoulder and shakes her gently. “Eve.”

“Mm.” Comes Eve’s muffled response. “What?” 

“We fell asleep.”

“Okay?”

Villanelle rolls her eyes. 

“ _ Eve _ .” She says again. “We fell  _ asleep _ .”

Two seconds of silence are filled with a horrified gasp. 

“Oh my-”

“It’s okay!” Villanelle says quickly as Eve tries to sit up under the blanket she’s wrapped in, “we have an hour.”

Eve sinks back down, relieved. 

“Jesus Christ, my heart.” She says while clutching her chest. It’s only then that she seems to realise their positioning. “Oh.”

“Mm,” Villanelle nods, “you are my little spoon, it seems.”

“How did we even get into this position.” Eve says sleepily, rubbing her eyes. 

“Fell asleep leaning? Then shifted, I guess. That, and you clearly wanted to be cuddled.”

“What!” Eve exclaims. “No way, I do not cuddle.”

“Yeah, well, you did.” Villanelle says casually, lying back down again. “Do you want me to move?”

Eve rolls onto her back in the confined space and fiddles with the end of a curl. 

“No, it’s fine. It’s warm.”

Villanelle dips her head until her chin is hidden behind the side of Eve’s shoulder. The smiles into the soft cotton of Eve’s tee. 

“This is nice?”

Eve chuckles at Villanelle. 

“Why did you say that like a question?”

“I don’t know.” Villanelle shrugs against the cushions. “I don’t ever do this.  _ I _ think it is nice but maybe other people think this is not nice? I don’t know.”

“If you think it’s nice then it’s nice.” Eve tells her. “It’s up to you what you like.”

“Okay. I like this.”

Eve turns her head, their faces only inches apart. 

“Me too.”

They’re so close. Villanelle can feel the warmth of Eve’s body, her legs still tangled in a blanket, radiating through her comfortable clothes. Her eyes are warm and a little tired-looking, her cheeks flushed from sleep. 

Villanelle finds the want that settles within her is different to the want she feels with others. There’s no furious desperation, not an urge to take and take and take. Instead the desperation is soft, it’s gentle in its existence, it wants and she wants but the want feels full. Less hollow? A solid want, firm and steady, like it will always be there regardless of whether Eve wants her back. It’s comforting, somehow. Heavy. Warm. 

Villanelle is surprised when Eve breaks the silence. 

“Can I kiss you?” She asks Villanelle. 

“You have never asked before.” Villanelle’s voice is just as quiet. “Why are you asking?”

“It feels dif-” Eve stops herself. “I don’t know. Just… I want to…” she trails off, eyes glancing down to Villanelle’s lips. 

Eve wants, too. 

“You want me?” Villanelle can’t help but ask.

Eve nods carefully. 

Villanelle holds her breath. 

“How does it feel?”

It’s a strange question, she knows, but she hopes Eve will understand. 

“It feels… anchoring. I don’t know how to explain it but, yeah, it makes me feel anchored. In a good way. A constant.”

Villanelle leans up and over Eve’s shoulder and kisses her. 

It’s the first time she’s initiated it. Two years of stolen kisses and this is the first time. It’s different, and it feels like a first kiss. Two first kisses? 

“Hey?” Eve mumbles against her lips. “Are you okay?”

Villanelle checks herself and feels the frown on her forehead. 

“Oh, yes.” Villanelle says quietly. “I was thinking. Sorry.”

“Care to share with the class?”

And Villanelle figures, why not?

“I was thinking, this feels like a first.”

Eve stares up at her, a smile in her eyes. 

“I know. I don’t know why but… yeah.”

Villanelle feels a click, something slotting into place, feels less like she’s forcing a square piece through an hexagonal hole. 

Eve shuffles then, turns onto her side to face Villanelle while reaching into her pocket. 

“Want to listen to some music?” She asks. She pulls out her phone and presses play, and the opening notes of Cornelia Street filter out from a speaker near the TV. Villanelle raises one eyebrow. 

“Good choice.” She says through a growing smile. Eve shrugs. 

“It’s my ‘best of Taylor’ playlist.” She says. “I hope you’re ready to kiss me to other romantic tunes such as Shake It Off and We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together.”

Villanelle scoffs but nudges her face closer, brushing Eve’s nose with her own. 

“As long as End Game isn’t on there.”

“Ugh, terrible song.” Eve whispers, and their lips meet again. 

It’s soft. It always is. Soft and sweet, the two of them trading kisses as their bodies press gently together. Villanelle’s arm cushions her head while the other goes to Eve’s hair, delicately threading fingers through curls to the slow rhythm of their mouths. Eve’s arm is between them and her other settles on Villanelle’s hip, cupping, holding, a barely-there touch that grounds. Anchors. 

Eve’s playlist is kind to them. 

Cruel Summer comes next, quiet enough that the beat doesn’t disturb their cultivated peace, then Lover, which makes Villanelle giggle quietly. 

Eve smiles against her lips. 

Minutes pass, more, seconds and minutes and time, it ticks by as they kiss. Villanelle doesn’t know when the shift happens, but suddenly Villanelle is below and Eve is above her, keeping herself up on an elbow as their tongues move from soft touches and flicks to firmer strokes. 

Their lips part further, and Villanelle’s arm no longer sits beneath her head but wraps around Eve’s waist, fingers starting to grip at the back of her t-shirt slightly, the other still wrapped in Eve’s hair. 

Eve’s hand finds Villanelle’s cheek and tilts her head, changing the angle of their mouths, altering the slant to accommodate something deeper. 

This is a first too. There’s something else here. The desperation closer to the surface, that rose coloured want starting to swell. 

Villanelle grips the bunched material in her hand a little tighter, causing it to shift upwards, an inch of skin revealed to the room behind them and Villanelle’s wrist. 

Eve moans. 

It’s so quiet and delicate that someone could miss it, Villanelle might have missed it if she’d taken a deep breath or sighed at that exact moment. But she hadn’t, and she heard it. 

It sparked inside her. 

A gentle pull of Eve’s hair kicks Eve into some kind of action. 

The hand on Villanelle’s cheek slides down, fingertips trailing across the heated skin at her neck and collarbone until they reach the navy hem of her tee. Then they smooth along the fabric, curving over the slope of Villanelle’s breasts and making her breath hitch pleasantly. They dance over her stomach, the dip of her belly button, until they reach the bottom of the material and slip under. 

The fingertips retrace their path. Up, up over Villanelle’s sensitive skin, muscles twitching underneath each touch of a fingerprint, until they settle on her sternum, fingers spread with a slight pressure curling the tips and dipping into Villanelle’s skin. 

Eve’s thumb rests in the place between her breasts where the middle of her bra would sit had she worn one, and Villanelle wonders if Eve can feel the ferocious beat of her heart even there. 

Villanelle holds Eve tighter, sighs into her mouth, rakes her fingers through her curls that makes Eve breathe a little more shallow. 

Two songs pass by without Villanelle registering what they are. Has she ever been this unaware?

Villanelle lets her hand mirror Eve’s. She lets go of the crumpled cotton and dips her fingers below the fabric until she can trace the notches of Eve’s spine as they kiss, the speed of their lips picking up in a way that’s almost unnoticeable. 

Villanelle tilts her head and licks deeper into Eve’s mouth, pulling another soft moan from the depths that makes Villanelle’s heart stutter in her chest. 

Her hand changes direction without a thought, letting the soft want guide it, and then it’s curving over the shape of Eve’s ass and Eve’s breath is quick, then she squeezes and-

It’s a groan this time, an open moan with more force behind it pressed into Villanelle’s mouth. 

She squeezes again. Pulls. Holds. And Eve starts to slowly roll her hips. 

The kiss gets heavier, more heated as Eve bucks softly against Villanelle’s thigh. Villanelle feels hot in her t-shirt. She scrapes her own hair back with her other hand, pushing it away from her forehead and flushed face. Eve seems to understand. 

The hand on her sternum slides back down and out, but grips the tee before slowly dragging it upwards. 

“Can I?” Eve barely gets it out before Villanelle is nodding. They work together to rid Villanelle of her top, leaving her naked from the waist up. Eve’s eyes cut paths across her chest. 

“How are you this attractive?” Eve mumbles, hands skimming slowly up Villanelle’s rib cage. Villanelle’s answer is cut off when fingertips reach the delicate skin on the underside of her tits. 

“Touch me.” Villanelle whispers, head tilting back against the sofa cushion. 

Eve’s fingers curve around the shape of her, a delicate reverence of a touch before brushing over Villanelle’s hardened nipples. She gasps and lifts her hips at the feeling which in turn has Eve sighing above her and grinding down, and then a rhythm is set. 

They move together, thighs slotted and pressed against each other’s heat while deft fingers work at Villanelle’s nipples and her own hands squeezed at Eve’s hips, ass, the backs of her thighs. 

The pressure of Eve’s thigh between Villanelle’s own is strong and angled perfectly, her clit being rubbed deliciously through the layers of fabric. She’s getting wetter with every movement, the friction becoming more of a slide, and she knows it’ll probably show through her sweatpants when they’re done but she doesn’t care, in fact the thought makes her even more wet, clenching around nothing as she moans into Eve’s mouth. 

The sound does something to Eve, who ruts above her with a shaky breath at the noise. Villanelle thinks she can feel moisture on her leg where Eve rides her, or maybe it’s just the heat, but either way she’ll imagine it’s Eve’s slick arousal soaking through cotton because the thought just  _ does _ it for her. 

Villanelle can't remember the last time time she came from doing something like this, just kissing and grinding against a thigh, but she knows it felt more urgent than this, more messy in its movements, because this… this feels more like a dance, it feels choreographed to please the masses rather than some clumsy race to a finish line. 

“Eve,” she breathes against kiss-swollen lips, “if we keep going, I’m-”

“Okay,” Eve reads her mind, grinds down harder, whimpers before nipping at Villanelle’s lip, “good, me too.”

Despite the movements and the heat and the fact that Eve is riding her thigh while pushing her own against Villanelle’s centre, those two words are what sets Villanelle off, the casual and easy admittance that Eve is going to come from this too. Villanelle moans at the words and fists Eve’s hair tighter still, before sliding her other hand between them and finding Eve’s breast. 

The woman’s gasp trails off into a groan, a quiet pleading “yes” slipping from her lips as Villanelle’s fingers drag across a hard nipple felt through a cotton t-shirt and bra. Villanelle pinches, manipulates them in her fingers in a way she hopes Eve will like, and the sudden sharp cant of Eve’s hips says she does, she does like it. 

“God, yes.” Eve whimpers into the air between their mouths, pressing their foreheads together. “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

Villanelle whines high and needy, the words rushing straight to her clit and throbbing there, underwear sliding and rubbing as Eve begins to move faster, chasing something that can only be found on Villanelle’s tense and toned thigh, now, as she presses in turn into Villanelle. 

“Eve, please,” Villanelle pants into her mouth over Eve’s desperate whimpers, “I want you to come.”

A keen, urgent moan against Villanelle’s lips then Eve freezes, her muscles tense as she shakes before gasping in air and sliding herself along Villanelle’s thigh in long, languid movements. 

The fabric of her sweatpants gets wetter with each stroke, the heat almost burning Villanelle’s skin as Eve comes against her, on her, through layers of clothing and with a shuddering moan made up of breathy, sweet tones. 

It’s almost enough for Villanelle too. 

“Keep going,” Villanelle moans, voice tight, once Eve catches her breath, “don’t stop, please.”

The thigh between her own legs, relaxed for the past minute, starts to move again, firm and solid against her aching core. There is friction and slick against her swollen folds and clit as Eve moves with purpose, establishing a momentum, Villanelle’s moans and gasps guiding her. 

Eve’s hands, no longer on Villanelle’s breasts but holding herself up, help her grind harder into where Villanelle needs it. 

Villanelle keeps one hand in Eve’s hair, twisting and guiding her down into another kiss, deep and hungry, while the other slides back down Eve’s side and clutches at her hip to pull her harder still, faster still. 

The sofa creaks with their movements and Villanelle is close, so close, that heavenly blissed-out want fully bubbling the surface of her very being as she holds Eve to her, lips and legs and hair tangled and she, she-

“ _ Oh _ ,” Villanelle moans loudly, “Eve-”

Villanelle tenses, eyes shut tight and mouth open, then wetness floods between her legs as she comes. All breath leaves her in a sigh, desperate sounding to her own ears but mixed with a sweet relief that has Eve whimpering. She’s dropping to Villanelle’s neck and placing kisses there, soft pecks against flushed and sensitive skin as Villanelle comes back to herself with rapid breathing and searching hands. She smooths her palms over Eve’s back, the skin there warm beneath the cotton tee she still has on.

“Fuck.” Villanelle murmurs. 

Eve lifts her face to smile at her, eyes darting between her eyes and lips in a way that has Villanelle’s heart turning in her chest. 

“Another first.” Eve says quietly, kissing her once, twice before pulling away and staring fixedly, intocsicatedly, at Villanelle’s lips again. 

Villanelle gets it. Her orgasm was perfect but only scratched the surface of something she didn’t fully realise she’d been harbouring until now. Eve shifts her thighs together in the cradle of Villanelle’s legs, and Villanelle recognises a similar realisation reflected in dark brown eyes. 

“Eve.” She whispers into the thick air between them. “What time is it?”

Eve huffs a breath in confusion before another,  _ different _ realisation hits her, then reaches for Villanelle’s phone on the arm rest. 

“Oh my god, one minute left exactly.” Eve leans back and her eyes glitter, dark with excitement and arousal. 

She leans up and nips Eve’s lip, because it’s there. Eve’s eyes slip shut, her brows furrow. 

“Are you okay?” Villanelle whispers, an echo of Eve’s much earlier question. 

“More than.” Eve opens her eyes. Her voice is honest, if not a touch rough at the edges from use. “Yeah.”

Villanelle smiles. 

“It’s time.”

Eve’s flushed cheeks lift as she grins, tapping around on the phone and then squeaking giddily before one final tap. 

Piano notes fill the room, followed by soft bass, then Taylor. 

It’s dreamy, the music, a hypnotic kind of beat that lulls, that feels like summer, feels like flowers and streams and rose petal tea. 

“Cottagecore.” Eve whispers, and Villanelle laughs. 

“Told you.” She murmurs, eyes darting back to kiss-swollen lips. “So, do you want to properly listen, or…” she purposefully trails off as she watches those lips shift into a smile. 

“We can always listen to the lyrics on the second listen,” Eve suggests quietly, “I quite like the idea of listening to the melodies while we…”

Villanelle’s breath catches. The soft want never left.

“Yeah,” Villanelle brushes her lips against Eve’s, “me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> And then they take their clothes off and have more sex while listening to folklore. 
> 
> End Game is the worst song and I refuse to accept Taylor Swift did that. End who?? I don’t know it. 
> 
> If you’d like to maybe support me, please head to my CC and ask how!! @fixyfics on Curious Cat


End file.
